


A Strange Courtship

by BairnSidhe



Series: Strange Courtship [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Overprotective Thorin, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story behind We Three Kings, Bickering Are.<br/>Five times Thorin thought Bilbo was flirting<br/>Five times Bilbo thought Thorin was flirting<br/>And one time Lady Yavanna had ENOUGH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five times Thorin thought Bilbo was flirting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HallsofStone2941](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallsofStone2941/gifts).



> For HallsofStone2941 and Kara or inspiring this.
> 
> Prompts are open for one shots and shorts.

+1

Thorin was glad Gandalf’s burglar wasn’t coming on the quest.  No, really, he was.  That strange, presumptuous creature was better left behind.  Why, only last night, the first time they met, even, that little hussy had outright come on to him!

_“Master Oakenshield, begging your pardon” he’d said (as though he really wished pardon) “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve a few brickleburs in your hair, round in the back.  Terrible trouble they are for long hair.  The times I’ve had to pick them out of lasses hair after berry picking, oh!  Hold still a mo and I’ll have them out in no time at all.”_

Really, to mention his previous liaisons in the same breath as he propositioned Thorin as though he were a commoner and not a King!  Although, perhaps he wished to let Thorin know he had skills, and those delicate hands certainly were perfect for….  But Thorin _was_ a King, and in taking that burden he also took certain losses in his ability to choose as he may.  Not that he would have chosen there, but the point stood.

“I signed the contract!”

Bugger.

+2

The Halfling had been quiet, stayed mostly away from Thorin.  That was for the best certainly.  Perhaps he’d thought over his actions and realized their inappropriate nature.  Speaking of inappropriate, he may need to find a new heir, as his sister-sons were currently jesting of orc attacks.  He was about to rip into them when a quiet voice spoke.

“That’s not entirely accurate, Kili.” Master Baggins said calmly.  “Oh, the timing yes, or if it’s overcast, and the blood certainly…”  His eyes drifted to a place none other could see.  “But in my experience, it’s not silent, and it’s only swift if you’re lucky.  No, no my boys, neither silent nor swift, but loud the battle rage and innocent cries that echo in your ears forever, woe and Lady Neinna’s tears to those captured.”

“Mister Boggins, have you fought orcs?  Was it a great battle?”

And wasn’t that a ridiculous notion.  The Halfling admitted to no weapon-knowledge the first night.

“Don’t be silly Kili, I was a _child_ the last time they crossed the river.  I only killed the one.”

Bragging to impress a suit was one thing, but this Thorin could not bear.

“With what sword, what axe?  You said you know naught of weapons, now you’ve slain an orc!  This is no jesting matter Halfling.”  Thorin raised a fist in emphasis, only to drop it fast as searing pain shot through his wrist.

The Halfling was winding up a small steel ball in a leather thong, and tucking it back in his sleeve.

“I did say I’d some skill with conkers, did I not?  And I’m not half of anything, I’m one whole Hobbit.  A whole, incredibly tired Hobbit.  Good _night_.”

Thorin watched carefully as the Hal-Hobbit laid down to rest.  A display of weapon prowess?  Claiming the kill of an orc, as a child no less?  Such blatant showing off of his skills for a suit should wait until gifts had been exchanged.  Not that Thorin would call him on his brazen behavior, that ball had hurt, even without the full force the Hobbit could surely muster.  And dip him in pot metal if _that_ wasn’t attractive.

Bugger.

+3

Rivendell.  Elves.  Meals with no meat.  Ugh.

Bilbo Baggins.  Surprisingly not ugh.

Master Baggins located and liberated the Elves supply of sausages and rashers of bacon and two chickens.  For such a fussy thing he also pointed to a few items of furniture for firewood.

“No, not to worry, not a real Doriath end table, just a cheap copy, and ugly besides.”

First he shows off his weapon skill, now he demonstrates his Craft and appraises the value of others Craft with remarkable deftness.  _Thorin_ could not have told a real Doriath heirloom from a false one, although he did agree it was ugly.  Well, he was surrounded by Elves, hunted by orcs, and likely going to die in dragonfire.  Might as well flirt back.

“Are you a wood crafter as well as a burglar and a warrior, Master Hobbit?”

The Hobbit snorted.  Mahal help him, even that was adorable.

“I’d not count it as a trade any more than I would burglary or soldiering.  I’m a gentlehobbit.  I’m the grandson of the Thain, and Head of the Baggins family.  If I’m to be proper, I’d do nothing but collect my rents and settle disputes.  Suppose all that went into the midden when I signed for you.”

This was news to Thorin.  He had passing knowledge of Hobbit politics, the Shire being Erid Luin’s closest neighbor.  His burglar was a prince of his people, and had left it behind for thirteen ragged Dwarves and a doomed quest.  Honor, loyalty, a willing heart.

Bugger.

+4

“Thorin, would you please tell me what this is?”

The request was innocent enough, until Thorin turned to where the burglar held out a chunk of glowing red crystal the size of Thorin’s thumb.  Even raw, the telltale glow of alexandrite in firelight caught and held his eye.

“Where did you find that?”

“Oh, by the road, the glint caught my eye, but I could have sworn it was green.”

“Aye, alexandrite does that, green to the sun and red to the flame.  It becomes clearer and more radiant with proper cutting.”  Thorin did not mention the myth that called it a courtship gift from Mahal to his Lady, a green thing from the earth under her nurturing care, a red beacon of love in the light of their bedchamber.  Supposedly an aphrodisiac.

“Well I know less than nothing of the cutting of stones, and would have no use for it even cut,” he laughed quietly.  “I’d be thought quite outrageous with something like this, not that this trip itself won’t merit some unpleasantness.  Would you like it?”

Thorin almost inhaled a sip of his soup.  Alexandrite, in the language of gems was steady growing love.  The implications of such a gift….

“I do not need it either.  Perhaps give it to a Hobbit lass when you return, mayhap one of those whose hair you’ve tended.”  A polite enough refusal redirecting the Hobbit back to thoughts of his home, and those doubtless bonny Hobbit lasses that he’d dallied with before.

“I suppose it could make a rather nice first-hearth mathom, perhaps Primula would like it.”

“I’m sure she’d be delighted.” Thorin replied a tad woodenly.  Any would no doubt rejoice in such a gift from such a hand.  If only….

Bugger.

+5

“Little bunny!”  Thorin tried to swallow his jealousy as the Skin-changer held his burglar close.  It should be _his_ arms that held the Hobbit, _his_ chest to whom that precious treasure was clasped.

“I am not a rabbit, I am a Hobbit, and put me down.  You are unreasonably tall for this behavior.”

“Little bunny maybe wants someone closer to his own height to hold him?  Feed you up on milk and honey?”

How dare that overlarge bear taunt him with what could never be?  And he still hadn’t released Bilbo!

“Little bunny wants to be put down now.  Honestly, Tall Folk!”  Set on his feet, he dashed behind Thorin and whispered furiously, “keep him away from me, Thorin, please, I hate heights.”

A plea for aid and protection, appealing to Thorin’s possessive and protective nature.  With all else that had been said and done, it was as good as a proposal.  Thorin’s control, already slipping from the Carrock embrace, fell away completely.

“He shall not touch you again,” he told Bilbo “or he shall taste the steel of every Dwarf I command.”  This last he leveled at Beorn.  “He is Umzamuh, and I guard him, shape changer.”

“Little bunny has a fierce…friend.  I shall not touch unless invited.”

The other Dwarves were looking at him oddly.  They must have heard.

Bugger.


	2. 5 times Bilbo thought Thorin was flirting when he wasn’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to tigrislilium, sabs_cat, squire, Sheeijan, and HallsofStone2941 for comments and Bhidaka, DUO_02, amb, Lithea, Athenais, freedomschoice220, VelveteenGhost, Lyriumxtattoos, Dr_Innocentchild, bonny99, Nenuial, HallsofStone2941, Liz_Blizz, Vuljotnaak, headinfantasy, squire, sabs_cat, TexannaRose, teaDragon, quadrad, tigrislilium, and Kenzie_Callopie Bhidaka, DUO_02, amb, Lithea, Athenais, freedomschoice220, VelveteenGhost, Lyriumxtattoos, Dr_Innocentchild, bonny99, Nenuial, HallsofStone2941, Liz_Blizz, Vuljotnaak, headinfantasy, squire, sabs_cat, TexannaRose, teaDragon, quadrad, tigrislilium, and Kenzie_Callopie Bhidaka, DUO_02, amb, Lithea, Athenais, freedomschoice220, VelveteenGhost, Lyriumxtattoos, Dr_Innocentchild, bonny99, Nenuial, HallsofStone2941, Liz_Blizz, Vuljotnaak, headinfantasy, squire, sabs_cat, TexannaRose, teaDragon, quadrad, tigrislilium, and Kenzie_Callopie for kudos.   
> This may be my most kudo'd work. Thank you all, I treasure this kind of response.

+1

If Master Oakenshield thought he was going to win any part of Bilbo’s regard with this creature, he was wrong.  Firstly, a gift of livestock should not be made before gifts of flowers and food.  Many gifts of flowers.  Secondly, he could have had someone other than his nephews explain the gift.

“No, the pony is yours, Mister Boggins,” Kili insisted.  “Uncle said so.  So you have to know how to care for her.  Brushing her down’s all well and good, and here has enough grass for forage, but sooner or later you’ll need to know how to feed her without it.  Hold your palm flat and your fingers together, lest she think they’re carrots.”

“Shouldn’t this be your job?  He did tell you to look after the ponies.”

“Kee’s right, you need to know this for after the quest, when we won’t be there.”

“What?”

“You couldn’t carry your share home without pack animals.  Uncle wouldn’t be that unfair.”

“Animals, plural?”  Even a small herd of ponies was a large gift, almost as large as Bag End had been, and that was his father’s _proposal_ gift.

“It’s a big treasure,” Kili supplied not at all helpfully.

Blast and botheration.

+2

Bilbo just could not be given any kind of luck, could he?  No it would have far less easy for the majestically grumpy arse to bathe elsewhere.  Perhaps down the stream, with the other Dwarves.  But no, he had to come wading, naked as the day he was born, water just covering for decency and poorly at that, into the shallow spot Bilbo had picked, behind a largish rock the Hobbit had hoped could provide some privacy.

“Master Hobbit.  If I were you, I’d stay back from the boulder a bit more.  Things like this cause undertows and can corrode the riverbed, making it deeper than it appears.”

“If you were me, you wouldn’t have come round it in the first place, allowing a fellow to bathe privately.”

“Then I suppose it is good that I am me, and that I take the care and keeping off this Company seriously.”  Cheeky bugger.

“I’ll have you know, Master Oakenshield, I had no intention of going any closer to that rock than I already am,” Bilbo huffed, stepping forward to poke Thorin’s unfairly attractive chest.  Thorin took a step back, forcing Bilbo to step into the river more so he could deliver a proper scolding.  “Hobbits know about undertows and deepwells, as a matter of fact.”  He poked Thorin again.  “Our primary defense in the Shire is the Brandywine.”  Thorin stepped away from the poking finger, and Bilbo slipped as he over stepped.

The water closed over his head and Bilbo fought the need to scream.  He needed to save that air, as he thrashed wildly toward the surface.  Strong, well-muscled arms snatched his waist and pulled him upright, spluttering.  Bilbo had always had a penchant for strong arms, and these rested just above the rapidly dwindling belly that had once been his pride.  Arousal and embarrassment warred in him before he settled on indignation.  “And furthermore, if you’d just stayed on that side of the rock,” he said pointing, as though he wasn’t thoroughly soaked and blushing, “I never would have fallen.”

“But you did fall, and it was good I was here to catch you, you didn’t seem to know how to swim.”

“OF COURSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SWIM, I’M A HOBBIT!  WE DON’T SWIM, THAT’S WHY WE LEARN ABOUT UNDERTOWS!”  He marched back to the shore in a huff to re-don his trousers and when he turned around, Thorin was still there, staring.  The naked heat in his eyes sent a tremble down Bilbo’s body that had nothing to do with cold water.  The Dwarf eyed his belly with blatant regard, cheeky thing he was.  He didn’t seem to mind the sadly deflated state.  Oh, by all things green and good, that Dwarf…

Blast and botheration.

+3

Bilbo liked Imladris, it was a staple of his night-stories as a fauntling.  He rather less cared for the constant tension between the Company and their hosts, and not at all did he care for Elrond’s manners.  Bilbo had, after all, also hosted a surprise company of Dwarves, and he’d been a proper host to them, unwanted though they’d been.  Elrond invited them in, willingly, and then treated them as narrowly as he could.  Some Homely House if there could be only salads for wayward folk.

He would not tolerate that.  Poor hosts make for poor guests. And his Took streak could be quite poor a guest indeed.  Pulling on years of lifting pies as a faunt, he stole out a proper supply of his Dwarves favorite meats and located cheap and gaudy furniture not even Lobelia would actually want to form a fire.  He did double check the small cuts his mother had made at the base of each peace before dragging it to the pavilion.  Thank goodness Belladonna had inquired as to authenticity and marked suitable targets for later pranking.

Thorin approached him twice, once to gauge his wisdom in throwing a particular piece to the flames, and once with a parcel, at a carefully chosen time when Bilbo was alone, preparing the chickens.  He placed the rough cloth-wrapped bundle by Bilbo, then disappeared.  When Bilbo looked inside he knew why.

A thick clump of basil, symbolizing serious love, and an offer of protection lay side by side with bay leaves (constancy) and coriander (concealed merit).  What a dramatic statement!  He shifted the herbs and the small cluster of seed-pods to his work bench, to reveal leeks and rosemary. Love, and protection again.  Perhaps not the most eloquent but Thorin was a rather blunt personality. Beneath those lay bundles of dill, thyme and marjoram, love and protection again, with courage and fertility added too, although dill could also mean lust, and partnered with marjoram’s fertility was a tad sensational, but forgivable until the bundles shifted and revealed carrots.  Thick, heavy, outright salacious carrots.  He tentatively lifted one, and immediately dropped like he was burned.  The utter cheek of that Dwarf!  Although Bilbo would be lying if he said the concept wasn’t somewhat…appealing.

Blast and botheration.

+4

A conversation about a strange stone lead to Bilbo somewhat re-evaluating Thorin’s cheekiness.  Thorin remembered his mention of his nieces and cousins!  And gave him an excellent idea of how to best dispose of the curious gem.  Prim and Drogo were bound to be wed as soon as they both came of age.  Everyone could see that, so Prim would need a good first-hearth mathom from him as he welcomed her to the Baggins Family.  He may get a scandalous reputation from this adventure, but he’d still remain the Baggins of Bag End, and that meant a proper welcome.  Prim was Brandybuck wild, and half Took herself, it’d be quite appropriate to have the color shifting stone carved into the Baggins Oak tree.  Well, if it could be done.

“Thorin?”

“Yes, Master Burglar?”

“Can alexandrite be carved into shapes, or just cut in planes?”

“In skilled enough hands it can be carved, but not into particularly complex shapes.”

“I suppose an oak tree is out then.  An acorn perhaps?”

“For a shape _that_ simple I could cut it myself, with the right tools.”

“When we retake your mountain, would you?”

Thorin paused, the most peculiar look upon his face, part horror, part longing.  *Perhaps I crossed a line?  He _is_ a king after all.*

“Ahem.  I mean only if you have the time.  I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“ _When_ we retake the mountain, I will carve it for you.  If your Primula would not mind.”

And he thinks of the sensibilities of Hobbits, Bilbo almost sighed at the care Thorin was showing his people.  It almost, no, scratch that, it _did_ make-up for the carrots.  That settled it, he was getting Thorin’s mountain back, and if he couldn’t, he’d invite Thorin and his family to live in Bag End.  Actually that didn’t sound half bad….

Blast and botheration.

+5

“I have never been more wrong.”

Thorin embraced him and Bilbo let himself sink into the smell of leather and fur and smoke that always seemed to follow Thorin, and he tangled his fingers in the fur of Thorin’s coat.  The warm solidness of the Dwarf King gave him a welcome respite from the terror of having been so far from Yavanna’s earth on Eagle-back.  It was quite improper to cling so, but Bilbo didn’t care.

“Can you ever forgive me, my Burglar?”

“Oh, my silly Dwarf, I never saw your doubt as a thing to forgive.  Perfectly reasonable, considering I’m not a warrior or even a Burglar.  I would have doubted me too.”

“I think now you’re the one mistaken, you most certainly are a Burglar.  An expert, and there’s no better Burglar than that of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bilbo blushed.  Twice now, Thorin had called him ‘his’, and that last…had Bilbo Baggins of Bag End actually...  _stolen_ the heart of Thorin Oakenshield?

“Speaking of Oaken Shields, my King, you dropped this.” He pulled forth the branch Thorin had carried from the beginning.  As Thorin reverently took it from him, Bilbo made a sudden and irreversible choice.  Hobbits had no use for Kings, but Bilbo would forever call Thorin his King, even if it was not meant for him to have more.

Blast and botheration, he was never going back to the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts are still open, contact me on my tumblr: http://bairnsidhe.tumblr.com/


	3. And one time Lady Yavanna had ENOUGH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yavanna is total Bagginshield Shipper Trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To squire, Sheeijan, tigrislilium, and HallsofStone2941for comments, and to Hawkwind1980, ladysappho, Lovia410, TaitortotHailz, and Basilstorm for kudos.
> 
> Here concludes our tale. Sorry I did not get it out as fast as expected. I tried to make Yavanna all grace and ineffability, but she insisted on being a bored housewife with Hobbit-soap opera, and super Bagginshield shipper trash. And Vala Ex Machina for the stuff that was weirdly ooc/coincidental either in the canon or in the previous chapters. It's good to be a goddess.

It had been interesting enough in a peaceful time that Belladonna Took went adventuring, that Yavanna spent some of her days watching her little one go off into the Big World.  Hobbits, strictly speaking weren’t _hers_ like her husband’s Dwarrow were his, but she had the sneaking suspicion that Eru in his wisdom had sung the descant that created their predecessors solely so she could have beings that were dear to her as well.  Eru was like that, he appreciated symmetry and evenness.  And despite being unwed himself a bit of a closet romantic, and her irritation that Aulë had made beings by himself was well known.  Had he let her help, she wouldn’t have had to ask for Ents, and as much as she was glad that had been allowed, Ents were not entertaining, not like Belladonna Took.

Unfortunately, being the subject of a Valar’s scrutiny during most of one’s life before marriage has some…side-effects.  Such as the accidental binding of all the power of Belladonna’s potential children into one child, the result of which left her effectively barren after the birth of her son.  Also, Bilbo himself was strange.  Vairë reported his thread strangely tangled with that of a Dwarven Prince, in a way previously only seen between two Dwarves, or like the twining of fated lovers such as Beren and Lúthien.  It was unintentional, but at least it would provide a second generation to watch.

And so it was that when the Weaver warned her that the Hobbit and the Dwarf were about to pull closer, Yavanna was watching.  She watched as they each got indignant over what they saw as excessive flirtation, but the other saw as practicality. 

She watched as her Hobbit used his small hunting weapon in an indignant defense of his honesty and her husband’s stone-child started to realize he was not fully stone.  She watched as her Hobbit came to a similar realization.  Neither did anything and she felt rather justified in subtly influencing her kinswoman Melian’s descendant to give them a better opportunity to confess.  Meli would have approved of it; she was as much a romantic as Yavanna.

She watched the unintentional flirting in Rivendell fail and triumph in equal but unintended measure.  They really were quite dense.  Carrots, Thorin?  Seriously?  Dill and marjoram were forgivable since he did not know plant speech, but carrots are rather obvious.

She thought a chunk of that stone her husband liked to drape her in would be a clue.  The legends of the Dwarves made it almost as obvious as the carrots what was meant.  Of course that was assuming Thorin would talk about those or Bilbo would mention the way it had rolled into his foot four times before he picked it up.  She had been quite blatant in making it follow him.  But still she watched them fall further in love and say nothing.

She was watching when her Hobbit gave his heart silently, resolved to a life serving his love and never expressing it.  Why did she have to be so invested in such a blind, emotionally constipated couple?  Well, she was inadvertently responsible for their fated bond existing.  And therefore Eru couldn’t be too mad with her if she meddled, a touch.  A quick word in the ear of a bear.  Fear, jealousy, trust and protectiveness combined quite nicely to get them engaged.  She honestly tuned out the explanation of what had occurred as offered by Balin.  It was long winded and boiled down to ‘Bilbo proposed and Thorin accepted’ any way.  She did watch as they stumbled to figure out each other’s true feelings about the match and resisted the urge to just tie them together with vines until they gave in and admitted their love.

Then somebody said ‘propriety’ and someone else said ‘marriage’, and another chimed in with ‘wedding’ and she nearly screamed.  She created pollen reproduction from scratch, marriages were nice but she had never felt weddings were needful to them.  They were an excuse for cake and dancing.  Had everyone forgot they were going to kill a DRAGON?!?

“Well, we can’t do it the Dwarven way, not without a mountain and another King.”

“The Hobbit ways call for a Ivonbatta, a Speaker of Yavanna.  We don’t have that out here and I think we’ll be seeing your mountain long before we see the Shire.”

No.  No, nope, not at all, this was **not** happening to her.  All that effort and they might get eaten by a dragon before their traditions allowed more than hand-holding?  Not if she had a say.

Actually…  Now that she thought about it, she did have a say.  A Speaker of Yavanna could be a mortal, but was Yavanna Kementári not also capable of speaking?  Did she not have her own voice?

**I speak for myself,** the trees roared.  **And I say the two be wed before they are dead.**

“What was that?”

**For my child you are very bad at recognizing your Vala-mother.  I helped create you Bilbo Baggins, I tied your fate to his at birth.  And you Thorin second of the name, called for another of my children that has saved you, do you not know the wife of your maker?**

“The Green Lady.  Why should you speak to me?”

**Because, you are my beloved’s child, and as surely as my children seem determined to remain by your side, I am determined that the bond between Bilbo and yourself be completed.**

“We hear and bear witness.”

**No formality, my child.  You want a big fancy party with cake and dancing you can do it later.  Right now all I want you to hear is that you are headed into deadly danger and should embrace what life gives you unless it is snatched from you in an untimely manner.  You love each other, I have witnessed this.  You needed and will need each other, I have witnessed this as well.  Like the olvar need the sun, you need each other, and to this I bear witness.  Without this love, you may live, but it will be a small and petty life, with your love it will be a life brighter than Telperion and Laurelin.**

“Don’t we have to say something?”

**I.  Am.  Talking.  I just said I witness your love and judge it true.  You already have given vows in your hearts and frankly I would bet my best trowel neither of you can actually say halfway decent vows on a moment’s notice.**

“That seems harsh.”

**One word.  Carrots.**

“Oh.”

“That was not my fault.  That was a misunderstanding.”

“Thorin, dear, that was a proposition of an indecent nature.”

“You have an odd way of saying misunderstanding.”

“Have you ever really looked at a carrot?”

“Oh.”

**I wed the two of you now together, never to be sundered even in death.  Have fun fighting the dragon.  Have a very different and more carrot related type of fun prior to fighting the dragon, please.  Remember, every mortal being dies eventually, but not even all immortals truly live.  Some live more in a bare handful of years than others in an Age.  Try to make it count.**

“Bilbo, my burglar, what just happened?”

“We got married in a sickle-wedding by the Vala of green and growing things.”

“And the dragon is _not_ in point of fact, already dead.”

“I would assume so from her words.”

“Bugger.”

“Blast and botheration.”

Yavanna smiled.  It was a strange courtship, but a good match.  Speaking of good matches, where was her husband?  She felt like practicing what she preached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the non Silm nerds  
> Vairë is the weaver of fate, the threads she is using are representations of people. Beren and Lúthien were Tolkien's Mary Sue and Gary Stu self-and-wife insert characters, and totally fell into the soul-mate trope.  
> Melian is Lúthien's mom and thereby Elrond's great great grandma. And he is a way better host than that, so I'm claiming VEM on his behavior in the movie.  
> Ivonbatta is my own idea. Ivon is a version of Yavanna's name in Sindarin, her handmaids are Ivonwin, and batta is Hobbitish for speaker. Ergo, Ivonbatta=Speaker of Yavanna.  
> Telperion and Laurelin are the Two Trees created by Yavanna that were pretty much sun-and-moon, Mark 2.

**Author's Note:**

> Umzamuh means My Greatest Jewel in Khuzdul.  
> Alexandrite actually does change color. See here for reference http://www.wixonjewelers.com/hopes-corner/rare-color-gems/alexandrite/
> 
> Find me on tumblr same name.


End file.
